“Then ye should have made the lass ken weel that ye liked her just the way she was.”
They turned toward the voice coming from the doorway of Angus’s bedchamber so fast Artan was not surprised to hear his and Angus’s necks crack softly. The smile on Old Meg’s face told him that she had enjoyed startling them so thoroughly. He joined Angus in scowling at the woman. She ignored them both, walked over to the table, and placing her hands on her well-rounded hips, slowly shook her head. Her feminine disgust was so clear Artan nearly winced.
“Cannae ye see it, ye great fools? The poor wee lass is trying to be a good wife,” said Old Meg.
“She was a good wife before. All fire and a sharp tongue,” Artan added quietly, sighing a little in fond remembrance.
“And did ye let her ken weel that ye liked her that way? Nay, I dinnae think so.”
“I married her and I bedded her. With vigor. That should be enough to tell a lass I like her.”
“Ah, so yelikedthose whores and widows ye tussled with, too, did ye?”
Artan glared at her. “I didnae bed them with vigor.”
“Will ye get your wee mind out of the bedchamber for a moment?” snapped Angus.
“I cannae help it,” said Artan. “’Tis where the changes in my wee wife pinch the sharpest.”
“Aye, so it would,” agreed Old Meg.
Angus snorted. “And what would ye ken about it, eh? Ye were married to that weak fool Lewis. Ow! Curse ye, woman,” he muttered, and rubbed the ear she had just sharply twisted.
“Dinnae ye speak poorly of my late husband, Angus MacReith,” said Old Meg. “He may nay have been the lusty swine ye were, but he gave me three fine sons and a bonnie lass, all who lived and are now having bairns of their own.”
“If ye two could pause in your wooing for a wee while,” drawled Artan, “I need some help getting my wife back.” He had to bite back a laugh when both Angus and Old Meg blushed even as they glared at him, but his good humor fled quickly. “’Tis as if the spirit of some other lass has taken her o’er, a meek, puling lass who thinks she is more slave than wife.”
“She is trying to be the perfect wife,” said Old Meg.
“She was perfect for me just the way she was.”
“As I have been saying, ye obviously didnae make that verra clear. Heed me, ever since her father and brother were killed, Cecily has tried to become a true part of a family, to win some hint of affection, respect, and acceptance from those Donaldsons. She ne’er really understood that naught she could e’er do would gain her that. Weel, she didnae ken the whole truth about them, did she? She always struggled to be what she thought Anabel wanted her to be. ’Tis why she was gong to marry that swine Fergus, aye? And from the moment that was arranged, Anabel lectured the lass on what a perfect wife should be, not that Anabel followed such foolish rules herself, mind you.” Old Meg smiled sadly. “I fear my poor wee lass is e’en more determined to be perfect now.”
“That is just daft,” grumbled Angus. “Of course she is accepted here. She is blood, isnae she?”
“So were the Donaldsons,” said Artan, beginning to understand what Old Meg was saying.
“The lass cannae be thinking we would harm her!”
“Nay, ye old fool,” snapped Meg, “although one couldnae really blame her for being wary after all that has happened and all the hard truths she has had to face. The child had her whole family taken away, and the ones who should have taken her to their hearts ne’er didandwere the verra ones who had destroyed all she loved. But, ye see, Cecilyneedsto be part of a family. With every failure to become a true part of the Donaldson family that need grew. She is blindly determined not to fail this time.”
“So I need to show her that sheispart of this family and that she doesnae have to be anything more than she is,” said Artan, frowning over what he began to see as a daunting chore. “I could have some of the Murray lasses come here to meet her. She would soon see that having some spirit and a sharp tongue isnae going to trouble me at all. Ah, but that could take weeks, and I want my wife back now.”
“Then ye are going to have to have a verra serious talk with her, let her ken exactly how ye feel about it all. And dinnae look so horrified. It willnae hurt. Ye have been talking to us about it, havenae ye?”
“Ye arenae my Sile.”
“’Tis what ye have to do. She can be a stubborn lass, and now that she has decided this is what she must do to win her place here, she will stay on that path e’en if it kills her.” Old Meg sat at the table in the chair facing Angus. “I have tried to talk to her, but she doesnae really heed me. She kens I love her like my own and thinks I but cosset her.” She looked at Artan. “Ye speaking to her may help as I dinnae believe ye cosset her.”
“She doesnae need any cosseting. She is a strong lass. Or was.” He sighed. “Aye, I had best talk to her ere she buries her spirit so deep there is nay uncovering it again.”
Old Meg nodded. “’Tis what I fear. With the Donaldsons it was ne’er so bad as this. That spirit was ne’er completely cowed. What she felt for them was mostly a sense of duty. ’Tis verra different now. Her heart’s involved.” She grinned at the sharp look of interest Artan gave her. “What? Didnae ye ken it?”
“How would I ken it? She has ne’er said so.”
“Oh, aye, I suspicion she had told ye, just nay with words. She has told ye in those ways that have ye so eager for her spirit to be revived.”
“Lust.”
